Nightmares
by captainfloor
Summary: Nightmares of losing Henry and Neal plague Emma to the point that she fears falling asleep. In the middle of the night, she leaves the ship's sleeping quarters to clear her mind and runs into Hook, who cannot and does not sleep for the same reason.


She sat up suddenly in bed, forehead drenched with cold sweat and arms covered with goosebumps. Even when she closed her eyes, she could still see the flash of green and the gaping hole in the earth. She could feel him slipping away.

Shivering, Emma crossed her arms over her chest and crossed the cabin slowly so that she wouldn't wake anyone up. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and closed her eyes. She inhaled the salty air and breathed out, her breath escaping her mouth in visible white clouds.

"Care to join me?"

She jumped, hand to her heart. "How - ?"

There was no mistaking that familiar accented drawl. She contemplated going back inside, and then shook her head. As she cautiously walked toward the edge of the ship, she could make out the dark silhouette of his messy hair and hook against the lavender sky. Without a word, she simply stepped beside him and leaned her elbows against the wooden frame, watching the sky. The stars in Neverland were so much brighter than they were at home. Sniffling, she rubbed the sides of her arms to make herself warm.

She staggered forward suddenly, as he placed his thick leather coat over her shoulders. Startled by the gesture and overwhelmed by the heavy material, she was at a loss for words. A sudden warmth washed over her - only physically, of course. Adjusting the coat and slowly straightening herself, she cleared her throat. "Since when were _you_ such a gentleman?"

"I told you before." He looked out, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the waters. "I'm always a gentleman. Besides, the sea is my home. The cold is no match for a pirate like me."

"So you wear this kind of stuff even when you sleep?" Sarcasm colored her voice, but she crinkled her nose in curiosity.

"I don't sleep at night," he replied simply.

Emma furrowed her eyebrows doubtfully. "You don't sleep?"

He shrugged, eyes still fixed on the rippling waters. "I try not to. For the same reason you can't."

Emma's mouth opened and both eyebrows shot up. "And how would you know - ?"

"We _understand_ each other." He emphasized the word, indicating that he still remembered the very words she had told him in Granny's diner. For the first time since she had stepped out of the cabin, he turned to look at her. "Remember?"

There was a beat of silence, and he returned his gaze to the skyline. The question was tickling her lips, and before she could stop herself, she blurted, "How did you forgive Gold?"

Hook raised an eyebrow, and his lips twisted into an unreadable crooked smile. "Who said anything about forgiving him?"

"You know what I mean. Why did you give up your revenge?"

His eyes seemed to search hers, and his gaze immediately iced over. "Don't do it."

"Do what?" she asked, gritting her teeth defensively.

"Tamara and Greg. Don't kill them."

"You can't tell me what to do," Emma snapped immediately. _How could he read her so well?_ She instinctively felt her walls going up, her defense system rebooting. She could barely admit it to herself, but it scared her to have someone understand her like he did. Her voice grew louder, "You're the one who shot Belle over the town line. You stabbed Gold. You have no right to tell me not to kill them!"

She took a step backwards, away from Hook.

"Aye, that I don't," he muttered. "But it isn't worth it."

She wasn't listening anymore, and she didn't want to. This wasn't what she wanted to hear. She wanted advice, action, not discouragement. Something to stop the nightmares. Shaking her head, Emma continued to step back, increasing the distance between them. "They killed Neal. They took my son away from me. You don't understand!"

It finally started to hit her all at once. The tears she had been hiding for so long threatened to fall. Mortified, she turned away. She didn't want anyone, let alone Hook, to see her like this. Weak and vulnerable.

"Wait," he called after her. When she didn't respond, he took a step, placed his hook in the back pocket of the leather coat, and pulled her so that she would face him. "Listen to me!"

Startled by the sudden passion and anger in his voice, her eyes widened. Though his face was mere inches away from hers, she made no move to escape.

"I'll be damned if I don't understand." His hissed whispers were hot on her cheeks. "I saw the heart of my love crushed before my very eyes. All I wanted was revenge. After I stabbed him, I immediately felt sated. My life's goal was met, and now, I had no reason left to live. Nobody to live for, nothing to do, nowhere to go."

Hook laughed emotionlessly. "Revenge won't replete you, it'll empty you. You think that your life will restart and you can live anew."

He gazed at her once, for what seemed like hours, before letting go of her so that she stumbled back. "Revenge is your own execution."

She breathed out. "So that's why you gave up?"

"It wasn't worth losing my life over."

"I thought your life wasn't worth living anyway."

He raised an eyebrow and let out a forced laugh. He clicked his tongue. "Quite the sweet-talker, Swan."

When she opened her mouth apologetically, he waved his hand dismissively. "It wasn't."

He ran his fingers through his hair - a gesture so normal and boyish that Emma found herself softening - just a little. She mumbled, "Then why?"

He hooked his thumb into his belt loop and shrugged slightly. "I found a reason to live for."

He turned to gaze at her with such intensity that she had to look away. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she internally cursed herself for being so sensitive. Attempting to break the heightened silence, she asked sarcastically, "So - what - you found your newest true love or something?"

He looked down at his hook, twisting and turning it. When he looked up, his eyes were clouded with an emotion she couldn't quite place her finger on. "I don't believe in love anymore."

She turned to scan his eyes and tilted her head slightly. His blue eyes were misted with uncertainty, confusion, defiance. There was no doubt about it. He was lying.

She swallowed hard, feeling as if her heart was in her throat. She cleared her throat. "Well. I just wanted to thank you. For, you know, helping us. With the bean and the ship and everything."

He glanced at her and then looked away. He nodded once in acknowledgment, and finally said, "Thank _you._"

"For what?"

He ignored her question pointedly, and then with a smile that softened his hard eyes - one she had never seen on his face before - he said, "Perhaps I shall sleep tonight. Good night, Emma."

Her heart leaped ridiculously at the sound of her own name. She convinced herself it was because of the cold and watched as he walked away. Even after he disappeared into his cabin, she stayed there, at the edge of the ship, watching as the lilac in the sky gave way to shades of lighter pink and orange. She pulled the coat toward her and inhaled deeply.

That night, she dreamt, not of gunshots and green flashes, but of rum, sea salt, and leather.


End file.
